


From Slave To Ravager: Oneshot collection

by cats_udonta



Series: From Slave to Ravager series [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot Collection, PTSD, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Sick Character, Slavery, Slice of Life, Team as Family, ties into the movies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-05-19 23:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14883615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cats_udonta/pseuds/cats_udonta
Summary: A collection of one shots that tie into From Slave to Ravager but could not be included either due to pacing issues, time, length, or in rare cases, plot/characterization differences.





	1. In Sickness and in Health

Martinex was sick.

Unlike mammals, who’s illness showed with high body temperature and sweat, Pluvian’s crystallized bodies got a little duller, and extremely lethargic. Didn’t matter how much time and effort he spent buffing his crystals, they simply wouldn’t retain their shine and ended up looking like sad little stalactites.

Every step took monumental effort, and halfway to his destination, Martinex wondered if it was even worth taking the trip. He didn’t _really_ need to help pilot the ship today, did he?

 _'Only doin’ it cus Aleta’s busy doing something else’_ he thought, as he slid down the wall and onto the floor. His vision blurred and he groaned, burying his head in his knees.

“Oh no!”

Martinex looked up to see Yondu’s worried face as the latter crouched in front of him. Yondu walked around him on all fours, making sure to balance on the tips of his toes and keep off his feet, looking rather animalistic as he did so, and inspected every inch of Martinex worriedly. He grabbed Martinex’s arm and tried to lift him up.

“What the hell are you doing?” asked Martinex tiredly.

“Come on” Said Yondu as he pulled harder “we gotta go.”

Martinex gave a self suffering sigh and made no effort to move from his spot on the floor.

“We gotta go” Yondu repeated. Martinex slapped his hand away roughly, causing Yondu’s already precarious balance to fail and sent him crashing to the floor in a heap. Before he could offer an apology, Yondu’s hand snapped out and found purchase around Martinex’s ankle.

He pulled and pulled and pulled like a drowning man trying to surface but just being short of the energy needed to make it.

“Why do we have to go?” Martinex asked.

“Cus if Master see’s ya sick, yer gonna die, and I don’t _want_ you ta die! Sos we gotta go sos I can hides ya until yer better” One final pull, and Yondu had succeeded in his task. Martinex let himself be lead, mulling over how best to respond to Yondu’s confession. Yondu had truly believed every word he said, and Martinex found that terribly sad.

“He’s not gonna kill me” Martinex turned his head to look at Yondu tiredly, the latter of who tried his hardest to both keep off his feet and lead Martinex “You’re allowed to be sick, Yondu. This isn’t Hala.”

Yondu shook his head “thas’ what they said, too. Then they burned n’ killed the others cus they was sick.”

“Who’s they?”

“ _Masters._ Sometimes they like ta play n’ lie. Stakar is kind, but no master has use fer a sick man. I know you an’t no slave, but yer sick, n’ that’s bad.”

“No one is gonna hurt me, or you, for being sick” Martinex repeated.

Yondu ignored him and lead Martinex to a spot near the generators. It’s angle made it so that anyone who hid there would be just out of sight. Yondu pointed to the spot and motioned for Martinex to hide.

Martinex fell to his knees, too tired to remain standing any longer. He sighed and said “you want me to hide there?”

Yondu nodded.

“You want me to stay hidden until I’m feeling better?”

Yondu nodded again.

“What happens if Stakar, or the crew needs me?” Martinex said. Yondu looked away and started playing with his hands worriedly “Or if they start looking for me?”

It was clear that Yondu’s thought process hadn’t been adjusted for life outside of Hala. Though it might’ve been possible to hide a sick slave or two on Hala, on a ship, the disappearance of a single person was cause for alarm. There was no way for Yondu to have known that, however, and Martinex made sure to keep his tone even and kind as not to scare him off or send him spiraling into another panic attack.

“Yondu. I know you mean well, but we can’t do things like that here. Lets go to Vox so I can sleep, ok? I’m really fuckin tired and I wanna sleep.”

Yondu wasn’t having it “no! Vox’ll tell Stakar, n’ Stakar‘ll be mad n’ then yu’ll die!”

“I’ll die if I stay here” Martinex tried to reason.

Yondu shook his head and moved to sit beside Martinex with a frown. He could tell that Yondu was having a difficult time choosing between his experience and Martinex’s reasoning.

“I know it’s scary. But I really need Vox. I need a bed. I _need_ sleep.”

“You promise?” Yondu’s voice sounded small and childlike, and it almost made his heart tear in two “You promise Vox wont say nothin’?”

 _’No. I can’t fuckin’ promise that’_ Martinex thought frustratedly “Yes. I promise he wont tell Stakar. Can we go now?”

It was rather pathetic, Martinex thought as he was clumsily pulled to his feet by Yondu. Together they slowly made their way to the infirmary. The moment they both stepped through the door, Vox’s head snapped in their direction and he hurriedly marched toward them, only stopping when he was almost nose to nose with Martinex.

Vox inspected Martinex with his eyes, clearly unimpressed.

“Thought a quick jaunt through the halls would cure you of your ailment, did you? I don’t even know why I bother wasting my breath....” he grumbled as he lead Martinex to a cot.

Yondu followed close behind, nervousness and unease radiating from him in waves.

“And you?” Vox addressed Yondu, as he pulled the covers up to Martinex’s chin “are you well?”

Yondu nodded nervously, feeling guilty that he had disobeyed Stakar by doing the one thing he had been explicitly ordered not to do: walk on his feet.

“You may sit with him if you like.” Though a little unsure, Yondu took the seat next to Martinex’s bed and started his diligent watch over the sick pluvian.

Vox smiled at the scene. He turned away, and produced his holo pad, using his body as a shield against any curious eyes. Quickly, yet quietly he sent Stakar a message, then went back to organizing his things.

The message said:

**Martinex has come down with a cold and is currently asleep in my infirmary. Yondu is keeping watch over him, so please do not worry. I will keep watch over them, so please don’t darken my doorstep, as organizing around a room full of people is rather difficult and tedious.**

**Regards,**

**Vox**


	2. Happy Birthday!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before the events of chapter 11.

“Happy birthday, ya grumpy piece of shit!” Aleta cooed, as she kissed him on the cheek and enveloped him in a hug.

The cake on the table was large, looked hideous, and sagged a little to the right. Written in surprisingly neat Xandarian cursive were the words ‘Happy Birthday, Stakar’ with the Ravager flames beneath it. The cake was chocolate – Stakar’s favorite. 

The entire team sat around the table, giving their well wishes and talking among themselves. Yondu, however, felt rather out of place and confused, and opted to simply sit and play invisible until he could figure out what to do.

From the corner of her eye, Aleta watched Yondu stare blankly ahead, brows furrowed in upset. As Stakar worked on blowing out the many, MANY candles, she sat down next to him.

“Birthday’s not your thing?” she asked.

Yondu suddenly looked very bashful “ah dunno wut a birthday is.”

Before she replied he continued “S’ ah birthday ah cake? Why’s the cake happy?” the entire situation felt very strange to Yondu. Cake looked delicious but it hardly warranted a group and a celebration. 

“It’s a celebration of the day you were born. Cake is but only but a small part of it; not the actual cause of celebration itself.” Charlie-27 replied with a chuckle.

“.....Oh” Yondu looked down at the table and suddenly felt very, very stupid. 

“Typically, a birthday is celebrated with food, friends, and cake. Though what happens can vary depending on the person and their likes and dislikes.” Charlie said.

“How do ya know when you was born?” Yondu said, his eyes never leaving the table. Everyone looked at each other awkwardly, and the mood in the room dropped creating a slightly tense atmosphere. 

“Your parents usually tell you. Documents, maybe doctors in rare occasion, I imagine.” Martinex slowly began. Knowing he was treading in very dangerous waters he proceeded carefully.

“Do you know how old you are?” Stakar asked. He picked one of the candles out of the cake and licked it off “wont give us the month or day, but it’ll give us a year; somethin’ ta work with...”

“20 somthin’ ah think. An’t sure. I wus born when it were hot out, n’ there were lot of trees...” Yondu looked off into the distance as he sometimes tended to do, going blank and off in a world of his own, his dull red eyes betraying none of the emotions he felt. 

No one knew quite what to say. 

“Why don’t we choose a birthday?” the inner flame of motherhood she once thought long extinguished had started burning bright and powerful once more “Today could be your birthday” Aleta said, giving an example.

“Innit Stakar’s birthday, though?” It was Stakar’s special day, and the thought of taking the attention away from him made Yondu feel very selfish. 

“People can share birthdays, ya know. Happens more often then ya’d think” Stakar said.

“It’s all good, Yondu. You can choose what ever day ya like.” Mainframe chirped. 

Yondu pondered the offer for a moment. Having a birthday would be wonderful, but a part of him truly wondered if he even deserved one, let alone the ability to choose. “You can choose........”

“Uuuuh...” Stakar began to think. One minute turned to two, and two became five. After about seven minutes it became clear that Stakar was having a little bit of difficulty. 

“An’t sure, Leta” he said to her, after she asked if everything was ok “Only thing I’m sure about is that the months of November through January can go fuck themselves. Too damn cold.”

“But January is delightful” Charlie-27 insisted.

“No it an’t. Shut up.”

“June?” offered Mainframe.

“Nah” Stakar shook his head. Yondu watched the as the group debated on which month was truly the best.

 _’October, perhaps?’_ signed Krugarr.

“Don’t really fit.”

“Now you’re just being pedantic.” Martinex shot back. The group nodded. Even Yondu couldn’t help but agree too. 

“April.” 

Stakar looked over at Aleta. “April was the month we met. And the month we got married. Do you remember, Stakar?” The look she gave him said ‘you better fuckin’ remember’. 

“I remember. April’s a good month” god, he wanted to gag – all this sugary over feely crap was beginning to make him feel ill. 

“I think April’s a good month, too” said Yondu.

\---

 

**A month later**

“Happy Birthday to yooooou. Happy Birthday to yoooooou. Happy Birthday dear Yonduuuuu. Happy Birthday to yooooou!”

A large, sad looking cake sat on the table. It sagged a little to the left and had different colored sprinkles littered across the top. The writing was absent, replaced with a picture of a very cute frog as Yondu was still in the very early stages of learning to read.

There were no presents or balloons, just the group and an extremely happy ex slave. 

As each member dug in, Yondu watched with a smile as he slowly ate his piece. 

He _really_ didn’t like the taste of cake. 

But he ate it anyways, because it made Aleta and Stakar very, very happy. And seeing them so happy, was, in his opinon, the best gift ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was cut due to it feeling like more of a filler chapter, than anything that really contributed to the plot by way of moving it forward.
> 
> I'm taking a lot of liberty's with the concept of how years are tracked in space/the galaxy. To simplify things (and for the sake of the plot) I'm using month/day like on the Terran calendar. I suspect that tracking days/months/years in the galaxy is far more complicated than our methods...
> 
> There will be a chapter of Yondu learning to read and write in about a chapter or two. It's gonna be very exciting. :D


	3. Guest chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a special guest chapter by my good friend, and artist (you've seen some of her work in my story): Jivvin. 
> 
> " it takes place somewhere early on in Yondu’s Ravager career, probably during the first 3 months skip? Something like that." - Jivvin

“Ah dun get why ah gotta leave in the first place.”

Martinex did not turn to face Yondu, engrossed as he was in polishing the sides of his scalp with a thick blue gel. He turned his face this way and that in front of the holo mirror, carefully polishing every crystalline protrusion and crevice on his head.

“I told you,” he said calmly, if somewhat distractedly, “the ship’s gonna get fumigated.”

“From wha’? Space flies?”

“Well, yeah. Kinda. I know you haven’t traveled like this much before, but the ugly truth is you pick up a lot of stuff in space. Planetside, too. Small bugs, spores, fungi, bacteria, all kinds of shit that can’t wait to get into your innards and wreck total havoc on them.” He shivered, as if at a particularly distasteful memory. “Or on sensitive electronics, for that matter. There was this time in-”

“Yeah, but why can’t ah jus’-”

Martinex threw him a meaningful look through the mirror. “Our fearless leaders are having some together time, if you catch my drift, you, ah… won’t be too welcome.”

Yondu looked to the side, embarrassed. “Nah, ah meant - why can’t ah jus’ go off on my own? Ah won’t get lost or nuthin’,” he added a little defensively.

Martinex was putting the last tiny smears of gel on his rocky forehead. Yondu wasn’t sure what the hell for, since, in his opinion, the Pluvian’s nacreous shell looked exactly the same as before. But he didn’t really care enough to ask, and so was simply sitting on the edge of his bunk, watching his friend put on his weird-smelling make-up.

The man in question sighed.

“Well, as I said, you haven’t really, uh, got out much, have you, before joining up with us. Stakar feels it’d be better if someone was to-”

“Babysit me,” Yondu grimaced.

“Keep you company,” Martinex corrected, “for now.” He wiped the stray remains of the gel with a rug, flicked the holo mirror off, and finally turned to face Yondu. “Come on, it’s not like I’m taking you to a daycare.”

If possible, Yondu grimaced even harder. “Nah, ya’re takin’ me to a whorehouse.”

Martinex was taken aback. “A ‘whorehouse’? You have the- I’ll have you know, Marisol’s is one the last remaining bastions of organic sex-work in the sector, and its girls and boys are the cleanest, freshest little things for parsecs in any direction! Calling it a ‘whorehouse’…” he added in an undertone, shaking his head at Yondu’s apparent ignorance.

Yondu just rolled his eyes. “Whores are whores.”

“Shows what you know. Come on, let’s move out.”

–

The suns were setting over the horizon, the expansive spaceport lighting up with multi-coloured neon. Two figures strode purposefully through the docks, smells of spices and engine exhaust heavy in the cold evening air.

“Ah can jus’ wander the port or sumthin’, while ya, uhh, do yer business,” Yondu mumbled, eyes darting between the bright holo ads and street food stalls. “Bet ah’ll keep mahself occupied all right.”

“No, that won’t do, pal. The whole thing’s about me keeping an eye on you, so you gotta keep close. Look, it won’t take long, promise.” Martinex pushed Yondu slightly with his shoulder, winking. “You can take part too, you know.”

“Ah… ah don’ feel like it.”

“Then don’t,” he shrugged. “Just, you know, sit around for some twenty-thirty minutes, and we’re out of there, and to wherever you wanna go next, okay?”

Yondu mumbled something else, too quietly for Martinex to catch, burying his hands even deeper into the pockets of his coat. They walked on in silence for a bit, enveloped in the pleasant cacophony of the jingle tracks and the warm bustle of the nightlife.

“Quite a hike, this,” Yondu grumbled after yet another turn. “There’s been plenty o’ cathouses down near the docks, ya sure we couldn’a gone ta one of ‘em?”

“Of course not, man, come on! Dirty hovels full of bots, disease and cheap dextro-amino swill,” Martinex grimaced in reply. “And Marisol’s, I told you…” he slapped with the back of his hand against the palm of another several times, producing a dull clunking sound. “Besides, it’s the only place I know that has a Pluvian girl on staff. ‘Cause, let’s be real, fleshy girls are nice to look at, but they do nothing for me in the bedroom.”

“Gross…”

“And I don’t mean that metaphorically. First they’re all ‘Ooh, it’s so cute how you sparkle!’, but when we get down to business? ‘Is that a solid organic crystal?! I’m not letting that go anywhere near my-’”

“Gross, gross, shut up!” Yondu threw up his hands to cover his ears, lips wrinkled in utmost disgust.

Martinex frowned, crystal ridges screeching subtly. “What? Like I don’t have to listen to you fleshies talk about mating all the time! Let me tell you, it took me a solid while to figure out that when you say ‘I’m so hard’ you mean ‘aroused’, ‘cause for Pluvians ‘hard’ means-”

“Ah don’t wanna hear it! Holy fuck, Mart…”

“Oh come on, I know you’re curious. Everyone’s curious how we do it. And you know, the thing is actually to get it to soften up and-”

“One more word outta yer sparkly mouth, an’ ah’ll turn ya to so much pixie dust!” Yondu roared, one hand grabbing Martinex by the collar and shaking vigorously.

Martinex patted him lightly on the shoulder, an innocent smile on his rocky lips.

“Relax, man,” he said, and waited until Yondu’s grip on his collar has lessened. As the Centaurian turned away from him with a deep frown and a low grumble, his eyes fell on the familiar neon sign. “Besides, we’re here. Behave for the ladies, please.”

–

The outside of the brothel’s building was dull and nondescript, a faintly shimmering sign - Marisol’s - the only way point for a weary traveler. The inside, though, was anything but. Walls and floors covered with precious stones, heavy silks draping the floor-to-ceiling window screens displaying perpetual magical sunsets; aromatic incense burned in ornate golden braziers, and fresh, delicate flowers in silver vases. The high ceilings and low lighting made the place feel a cross between a palace and a temple shrine.

The ostentatious opulence made Yondu slightly queasy.

“Well, this looks even better than when I was here last time,” Martinex said, looking around with obvious fascination. “Real fancy. They’re moving up in the world, I guess.”

Still, he navigated the place with the familiarity of a regular, and Yondu decided to simply follow him for now, soaking up the all the info on the building and its inhabitants just in case.

The layout was simple, the exits few, and so the public was what attracted most of Yondu’s attention. Lustful patrons, attentive hosts, and burly security crew were like a patchwork of unique, colourful characters that nevertheless worked together like an intricate and well-oiled machine.

He was being studied too, he noticed almost instantly. Skimpily dressed men, women and monogendered individuals were draped against the marble columns and velvet couches like so much finery, their eyes following him from the dark corners of the room, glinting like stars. One in particular caught his attention - a young Krylorian girl dressed in silk and rhinestones, slave collar marks dark against her rich skin, but she made no moves to hide them. She stared at him from the dark, not with an invitation, but with a challenge, showing off her neck, wearing the scars as a badge of pride.

Yondu wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Desperate to get away from her heavy gaze, he turned around and bumped into Martinex, who was chatting up a tall Korbinite girl.

“What, saw something you liked?” the Pluvian smirked.

Yondu shook his head, palming frantically at the collar of his coat. Eager to change the topic, he nodded towards a large dark-skinned Gramosian sitting at a tiny desk near the bar, a bored look on his face. “That… that Marisol?” he asked quietly.

“What?” Martinex turned to look, then gave a short laugh. “Of course not, pal, that’s just one of the bruisers. Terry or Carry or whatever. Let’s go.”

They moved through the masses of patrons and hosts until they’ve reached the Gramosian’s desk, Martinex knocking on it a couple of times to get the other man’s attention.

“Is Lariss free right now?”

The brute turned his massive head toward the Pluvian. “Reservation number?”

“What? What is this, a hotel? I just wanna see Lariss, man.”

This time the man turned his entire body towards Martinex, and even sitting down he seemed to be towering over everyone else. “Ms. Lariss’ time is booked three days in advance,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “Unless ye’re on a list o’ reservations…”

“Reser-what now?” Martinex frowned, leaning on the desk, not bothering to hide his mounting annoyance. “Brother, I haven’t touched land in three weeks, and have passed a dozen of brothels on my way here, I’m not in the mood for this crap. I’m willing to wait a bit if she’s with a client right now, but don’t give me this ‘three days’ shit ever again, you hear me?”

The Gramosian leaned forward on one elbow, dark lips curling to reveal two rows of sharp triangular teeth. “Listen here, Sparky. ‘Tain’t no dock-side joy house ye can pop in at any time to get yer shiny little rocks off. ‘Tis a respectable ‘stablishment. An’ if ye wanna get frisky with me, boy…” he took a large plastiglass tumbler from his desk, downed its contents in one gulp, then proceeded to crush it in his giant fist and throw the remains in front of Martinex, tiny shards glinting like crystals of the Pluvian’s skin. “Now, ye wanna make a reservation?”

“Listen here, Meaty…” Martinex started in a growl, but Yondu stepped forth quickly, grabbing his friend by the shoulders, struggling to keep him still.

“C’mon, Mart, c’mon. We dun’ want no trouble, do we?”

“Do we, Sparky?” the Gramosian chuckled, a rumbling, dangerous sound. “And what about ye, lad?” he added, smirking at Yondu now. “‘Fraid we don’t have any Centaurians on staff, but there’s one lovely Kree girl ye might find to be… quite an experience. Or a Kree boy? Or both?”

“N-nah, nah, thanks…” Yondu mumbled, trying to hide his eyes, pushing Martinex towards the exit.

“Ye sure? They’re real popular ‘mongst you ex-slave folk.”

Yondu felt a chill run down his spine. How did he- Did I- The wave of mortification and cold, suffocating fear crashed over him, and he felt as if all strength left his body at once.

He heard Martinex yell as if through a fog. “Shut your foul mouth, you trog, ‘til I’ve shut it for you!”

“Who, you, boy? Or are ye gonna sic yer pet dog on me?”

Adrenaline was already starting to pump through Yondu’s blood as he saw his friend jump on the flimsy desk, one hand clutching at Gramosian’s meaty nose, the other lifted for a strike. But as he was turning to cover the Pluvian’s back, he felt a sharp burst of pain at his temple, and everything turned into a blur.

–

“Fucking… gentrification,” Martinex grumbled, spitting out some pale blue fluid from his broken lips, as he leaned on the wall of the building opposite Marisol’s. His breathing was heavy, and the crystal of his face dull and covered in a web of cracks. “This whole ‘reservations’ bullshit wasn’t there the last time I visited.” He spat once more, then turned towards the brothel, yelling. “Wanna play the high-class game, you fucks? Whores are whores, you know!”

The building remained silent, only the neon sign winked at them in the dark.

Yondu slowly rose from the ground, keeping his back to the metal wall, fingers carefully probing at his temple. There was barely any blood, and the pain was already subsiding, but the insistent throbbing of his pulse just above his eye was still kind of annoying.

He wasn’t sure about what exactly has happened after he got hit in the head. There was a lot of yelling, his fist has definitely collided with a couple of squishy mugs, but then there was the sensation of his hands being locked behind his back, and right after - the cold night air rushing past his ears, and the cold wet ground rushing towards his face.

They got thrown out.

“Ah… ah’m sorry yer plans got spoiled,” Yondu said quietly, looking away.

“How’s that any fault of yours, man?” Martinex replied. “Come on, it was fun, wasn’t it?” He tried to laugh, but got caught up in a coughing fit instead, spitting a bit more fluid onto the sidewalk. The cracked ridges of his face screeched unpleasantly as he contorted them into a crooked smile. “So what, let’s go hit up some other brothel since we’re in the area?” But just as protests started to mount in Yondu’s mind, he burst out laughing again, leaning on the wall for support. “Just kidding, man, relax! You should’ve seen your face,” he let out, wheezing and shaking his head.

Yondu didn’t find it particularly funny. He didn’t think he’d be in a mood to go to a brothel for the entire foreseeable future.

Martinex calmed down eventually, gave his friend a once-over, and patted him lightly on the shoulder. “Let’s go get some drinks.”

The Centaurian simply nodded, and let Martinex lead the way. Tiredly, he rubbed at his eyes as they walked the neon-lit docks once again.

“Ah’m gonna ask fer a diff’rent babysitter next time, Mart,” he sighed. “Better yet, ah’ll jus’ stick with Krugarr an’ Mainframe, jus’ ya wait ‘n’ see.”

“What, you think those two are a safe bet just because one of them doesn’t speak and the other’s just a head?” Martinex frowned, indignation plain in his voice. “Let me tell you, brother, I still have mental scars, to say nothing about the physical, from the last shore leave we spent together. Have I ever told you the Cammia IV story?” Yondu shook his head, and a wide smile made the crystals on the Pluvian’s face light up and glitter with reflected colours. “It’s been our first shore leave in three standard months,” he began simply, “Stakar and Aleta were at each other’s throats, Loffe was down with the Zabretan flu, and Mainframe decided it’d be totally swell for us all to visit the local hot springs…”

The stars shimmered dimly in the port side sky as two figures walked on through the crowded narrow streets of the docks. The night was only beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think she did an excellent job.
> 
> Regular chapters will be coming soon. I just have lots of work and am working hard between that and my stories. Thank you for your patience! :D


	4. Yondu's first mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stakar takes Yondu on his first official mission. 
> 
> For a better experience, please listen to this while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jl3GLMsko_0&list=PLJbWNarT9D8msO9D8p3nvq7Wj9FBQvvkC&index=5
> 
> As you could probably tell, this was kept from FSTR due to every concept being addressed in a better way, and it not really adding to the story. I also decided that his first mission should be something different (as seen in FSTR) and thus decided this had to be scrapped.

“Gonna pick up some ingredients for Loffe” Stakar said, as he crouched before Yondu, keeping himself eye level and looking as non threatening as possible to the recently freed slave.

“He can do it himself, but I wanted to take ya planet side and get ya used to picking shit up. Thought this’d be a nice, easy, job for ya.” 

Stakar paused and waited for Yondu to reply. The sooner he introduced the concept of ‘choice’ to him, the better, as the idea of constantly giving direction to another person – having to watch over them and basically dictate their lives – was rather exhausting. Not to mention rather sad, too.

Yondu nodded. 

“What do you think?” Stakar prodded.

Yondu looked thoughtful as he mulled over Stakar’s question. No doubt confused over why the one he perceived as ‘master’ would bother asking his opinion over a command. Though going planetside to collect ingredients sounded rather interesting, in Yondu’s opinion. 

“Sounds.......good?” Yondu forced out with an awkward smile that showed all of his teeth. Stakar gave an awkward smile in return. 

\-------

Iaonia was an extremely relaxed planet, it’s atmosphere and look extremely similar to that of a sea side town. Houses were close together and painted different colours, most of it’s inhabitants were friendly and generous and it’s food selection varied and second to none.

As with most sea type planets, it’s fish, eel and squid were varied and extremely cheap. However, unlike most sea side planets, the citizens of Iaonia were careful to not over fish. Yondu stuck close beside Stakar, ramrod straight, eyes darting back and forth as he looked for potential threats. Inside it’s holster, the Yaka arrow vibrated, feeding off it’s owners emotions.

Stakar clapped a hand on his shoulder and said gently “an’t no threats here. Calm down.”

Yondu looked rather annoyed with him, but stayed quiet as he tended to do. People walked around them as they paused in their walking to talk, others gawked and spoke with harsh whispers. 

“Somethin’ bothering ya Yondu? Speak up.”

“It an’t nothin’, Ma-Stakar. s’ just....” he braced himself for a beating before continuing “Jus’ cus there an’t no threats ya can see, don’t mean there’s none. Almost lost a lot of temporary masters cus they wus careless like that.” 

Stakar lifted his hand from Yondu’s shoulder, and watched with a frown as Yondu tensed. 

“Got a good point, but I highly doubt anyone could kill us even if they’d wanna.” He pointed to the buildings, only speaking again when Yondu was looking in the direction he pointed “an’t a single building on this planet that’s good for sniping. Too short, roof’s are oddly shaped, no good coverage.” 

He turned and gestured lower, indicating the surrounding area and everything around it “Everything’s too open to hide. And no one’s gonna bother tryin’ to shank us cus they’d get caught too quick. Too much eyes n’ ears.”

Yondu nodded, having noticed the whispers and eyes since they landed on the planet. He felt a little better knowing that they were safer. 

“And Yondu? I an’t gonna hit you. You can relax.”

\-----

They entered the bakery, and were immediately overcome with the delicious smells of baked goods of all varieties. The bakery was extremely homely, and every shelf, from top to bottom, was covered in breads, cookies, pies and muffins. Near one of the open windows was a wind chime. Every so often it would sing as the slight breeze blew past it. 

Yondu sniffed the air, and wandered from shelf to shelf, sniffing every item up close. The owner watched with a small amount of amusement at the younger man’s actions. 

“Can I help you?” he asked, still keeping an eye on Yondu as Stakar pulled out a fairly long list and started reading off of it.

“Yeah, I need three loafs of pumpernickel, two ritter berry loafs, five muffins of ‘surprise me’ flavors, one handful of white chocolate and - ” he quickly muttered to himself _’what the fuck does he need all this shit for?'_ “five loafs of regular white bread.”

“And the one sniffing my goods?” the man gestured to Yondu with a nod.

Stakar called Yondu over.

The man held a webbed hand out, and Yondu took it. He looked very kind with his beard and laugh lines. Two sharp teeth poked out from his bottom lip, and his light grey skin sparkled very slightly when the light hit it just so. He was clad in a light green cardigan and brown slacks. 

They stood there awkwardly for a moment as Yondu didn’t know quite what to do. A pale strip of skin poked out from under Yondu’s collar and the baker finally understood the cause of Yondu’s strange behaviour. 

The kindly old man took one of the muffins from the display and held it out to Yondu. With his free hand he waved off Stakar’s concern “Have you ever tried white chocolate?”

Yondu shook his head ‘no’ “It’s very good and be added to many different things.” he made a ‘go on’ motion with his hands and encouraged Yondu to eat. Yondu turned to Stakar, silently asking for his permission to eat in front of the man. 

“Go for it.” 

The muffin was buttery and fluffy, it’s taste gentle and far from overwhelming. The white chocolate chips were gooey and gave the right amount of bang with each bite. With his cheeks puffed out from the majority of the eaten muffin filling them, the baker nearly melted at the adorable sight.

“M’mmm good!” a few crumbs escaped, ending up on his uniform and the glass case. Yondu hurriedly wiped them off and onto the floor. He looked down at the small mess he had created and wrung his hands worriedly. 

“You ok?” Stakar asked. From his place behind the counter, the kindly old man leaned over to see the situation better. It was quiet for a moment, the birds chirping and the pleasant warm breeze blew through the open window and danced through the wind chime making it sing. 

Yondu’s tone was quiet, as he turned to talk to Stakar. His body language was tense, as he readied himself for a beating. “Ah, made ah mess....”

Deciding privacy was best, the baker turned around and began to bag the order. Each order was bagged by loaf type, and the rest were bagged together.

“Yeah, happens sometimes. Nothin to get worried over.” Stakar shrugged. Though he hardly looked convinced, Yondu let the matter drop. 

The kindly old man smiled at the pair as he set the bags down “That’ll be 300 units please. Not including the muffin of course, that’s on the house.”

As Stakar paid, Yondu took the bag and waited patiently for him to finish.

\----

The second shop they visited was only a few blocks away from the first. Yondu walked very slightly behind Stakar, ready to jump in front of him at a moments notice. 

Gaudy fish decorations littered the walls and the pungent smell was nearly overwhelming. On the ceiling was yet another wind chime. Delicate metal fish dangled by fishing line, suspended by a base shaped vaguely like a fishing rod. 

Stakar wrinkled his nose and fanned the pungent air. Yondu, however, seemed completely unbothered by the foul smell, no doubt having smelled much worse in his time as a battle slave on Hala. Like with the bread shop, Yondu spent his time going around the store and smelling anything and everything that caught his eye. 

“Ya here ta buy or ta eye?” The grizzled woman asked. She looked to be around middle age, with light purple skin. Her fingers were webbed, and her hair was bobbed and bio-luminescent. A large esca balanced awkwardly on the droopy illicum that poked out from her hair. She spoke with a heavy lisp and looked mean.

“Buy” Stakar pulled the list out and read from it. It was a long, and strange list of fish, ranging from extremely big, to almost impossibly small. 

“Odd list o’ thans’. Wacha makin?” 

“No idea.” Though he wasn’t a cook, and had very little knowledge of most things when it came to cooking, what he did know was some of the fish were known to be used exclusively for grilling. However, this diverse list of fish did nothing but add to his ever growing confusion over what Loffe could possibly be making. Bread, fish, muffins, chocolate....what did those make?

“Not erry day I geet idiot folk like ya’s in eer. Dunno wut yer makin - “ she threw every fish into one large bag taking little to no care as she did so “psssh, idiot.”

With teeth bared, hackles raised and ready to fight, Yondu stepped forward with a growl. His implant glowed and the yaka arrow vibrated violently in it’s holster, but before he could run her through, Stakar shook his head ‘no’ and motioned for him to stand down. Behind the counter, the lady chuckled and continued her bagging.

When the bag was full to the point of near bursting, she leaned over the counter and dropped it by Stakar’s feet. It opened slightly and a few fish spilled from it’s confines, causing Stakar to cringe as their slimy bodies hit the dirty floor. 

She held her hand out and rudely demanded payment “th’all be 570 units – chargin’ extra cus o’ ya trigger happie puppy.” 

Stakar bit back a retort and none too politely placed the units in her hand. Behind him, Yondu was seething from the insults directed towards his precious master. If she were to die a mysterious and convenient death, Yondu doubted anyone mind too much, if at all.

“Ya can gooooo nao, but clean up yer mess for’ ya do” she sing-songed.

As if on cue, Yondu quickly made his way over. He knelt down and grabbed the fish, two at a time, and carefully placed them back into the bag – each one making a gross squelch as he did so. Once Yondu was done, they left the store, vowing never to return. 

“I could kill her” Yondu eagerly suggested as they turned the corner, the bag of fish clenched tightly in one hand and the rest in the other. 

“I uh...good enthusiasm, but no thanks.”

Very little mattered to slaves more than their masters happiness. Seeing his new master unhappy made Yondu unhappy in turn, and since his master was so enthused about this little mission, Yondu eagerly filled the uncomfortable silence with a question to show his interest, in an attempt to boost his masters mood.

“What _is_ Loffe cookin?”

Stakar looked thoughtful for a moment “I honestly don’t know. Loffe does this all the damn time. He mixes shit together that shouldn’t be, and it usually comes out edible somehow. Stopped questioning it long ago cus thinkin’ bout it too hard was givin me a damn headache.”

“Sandwiches maybe? What do you think he’s making, Yondu?” Stakar said as he stopped suddenly, finger on his bottom lip in feigned contemplation. 

Yondu thought long and hard, determined to give the right answer and not disappoint. After a few minutes he burst out with a passionate cry “slag! he’s makin’ fishy slag!” 

“What’s slag?” Stakar kindly asked.

Yondu mimed a vague box shape and moved his hands this way and that “S’ ah...s’ a mushy, and yas eat it like - “ he bit at the air, looking very much like a shark going after prey “with yer mouth n’ hands all fast. An’t never had fishy slag before!” 

Raiding Kree ships came with their own share of discoveries, both disturbing and interesting. Ever so often they’d come across what they assumed was an edible substance, square in nature and just thick enough to hold itself together.

And now that strange substance had a name: Slag. Stakar’s lip curled in disgust at the thought of Yondu being made to survive on that disgusting mess. 

“Sorry, mas-Stakar. Wus tha’ the wrong answer?” Yondu’s voice, meek and timid, cut through his distracted haze.

Stakar shook his head to clear it “There is no wrong answer. I an’t mad at you, I’m mad at the Kree for what they did to you.”

Yondu looked extremely perplexed at the concept of anyone, let alone his master, being mad at the Kree for their treatment of him, especially since any slave knew they were only doing what was right. To make a proper slave, you needed to teach them how to behave and their place in society – it was only common sense.

“Forgive me fer askin, mast-Stakar, but iffin there’s no wrong answer then why ask me?” 

Stakar sighed “Because it’s fun. You know, a game?”

“Ah don’t understand.” 

“Ok” Stakar ran a hand down his face “sometimes people like to make bets without units cus’ it’s fun ta see who’s right. Braggin’ rights is part of it too sometimes, depends on how competitive both parties wanna get. It an’t always bout’ gamblin tho. Sometimes ya just wanna know cus includin’ others is the polite thing ta do. Understand?”

“No ah don’t, Master – ah mean, Stakar – but ah agree!” Yondu replied enthusiastically.

The energy was there, but the point missed by a mile. Deciding to leave the conversation for a later time, after Yondu understood more simple concepts, he patted Yondu’s shoulder awkwardly.

\--

Together they had made their way back to the ship, groceries in hand. The moment Loffe took sight of the bags, he tore into them with a happy cry – fish spilled everywhere, but Loffe hardly seemed to mind. 

“Wut are ya making, Mr.Loffe?” Yondu asked shyly from behind Stakar’s leg.

“Pie!” Loffe cheerfully cried. He chopped the bread and muffins into bite sized squares and threw the cleaver down onto the cutting board with so much force the tip became partially buried and stood up on it’s own. The deep marks littering the cutting board suggested he did this quite often. 

“Had a dream days ago bout a chocolate mountain and pie, and I knew I had ta make it! And it’s gunna be amazin’ is wut it is!”

Stakar cringed. Yondu looked at Stakar and then back at Loffe, unsure how he should feel; who’s lead he should take. Excited? Or disgusted?

“Yes! Ah knooo what yer thinkin’ ‘oh Loffe eets gunna taste like garbage!’ to which ah reply, yer wrong n’ you’ll eat yer words’” Yondu watched the pair interact with interest. 

“That implies that, that’s gonna go near my mouth. Which it an’t.”

“Bah, ya wouldn’t kno proper food if it bit ya on the arse!” Loffe turned to Yondu and pointed to him with a wooden spoon “This un knows good food when he see’s it, don’t ya lad?”

Was this the fun that Stakar was talking about? 

Yondu nodded, playing along. They watched as Loffe scrambled about the kitchen, cutting, mixing and manipulating. Within around twenty minutes a vague pie like thing had been produced, and popped into the oven with so much enthusiasm that it jumped as it hit the top rack and nearly tumbled onto it’s side.

“Ooooooh there ya are!” Loffe cooed as he pulled the monstrosity from the oven forty minutes later. Stakar and Yondu shared a cringe as they caught sight of it, and a whiff of the smell. They were each given a big slice, which Stakar outright refused almost immediately by pushing his plate back toward Loffe and responding with a firm ‘fuck no’. 

Yondu, however, knew better than anyone just how precious food could be. With his fingers, he scooped up a chunk and popped it in his mouth. Loffe looked at him excitedly, while Stakar looked almost pained. 

One, two, three chews and a swallow.....and then he puked.

Loffe scratched the back of his head with his left hand and looked rather bashfully at the dark puddle on the floor “that bad, lad?” He jumped off the counter and tossed the remainder of the pie into the trash while Stakar rubbed Yondu’s back and whispered a comforting ‘there, there.’ 

For the first time in his life Yondu had experienced something he had thought was outright impossible: disliking a food so strongly, that he would rather starve to death then come within three feet of it ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iaonia's people are all based off fish and other aquatic animals. The kind old man is based off a shark, while the mean lady is based off an angler fish. And that angler fish lady is based off a boss I had...ugh. 
> 
> Imagine creating a food so bad that a slave would rather die then come near it lol.
> 
> Sorry for the long wait! I've been very busy. I'll try to update this sooner. Thank you for your patience.


	5. Charlie-27 and Yondu, let's do SCIENCE!!!!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like a few chapters you will see in the future, characterization of a character, or the story itself, used to be quite different from the finished product. In this chapter, Charlie-27 used to have some Vox like qualities, though his inquisitive and science driven mind did stay the same. This chap was axed due to it not fitting in the story, I didn't like Charlie's Vox like bits and I decided that Yondu's chewing wasn't important enough to warrant it's own chapter/plot. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy an alternate plot of Charlie trying to figure out why Yondu chews with the power of SCIENCE!
> 
> For a better experience, please listen to this while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jl3GLMsko_0

Yondu liked to bite things.

It was an entirely irrational and nonsensical thing to do, in Charlie-27’s opinion, that always left him with a myriad of questions. At first the chewing came in rare spurt’s, his reach hindered by having to sit on Charlie’s shoulders as his feet healed. But as he gained mobility, so did his reach. And that’s where the problems began.

“Stop it.”

Charlie-27 took the squishy object from Yondu’s mouth, and placed it far out of reach up on the tallest shelf that rested in the corner. There were deep teeth marks in it, some so deep they nearly went through one side and out the other. 

“Why do you do that? Why do you insist on chewing on everything within arms reach? It’s not sanitary.” Charlie scolded.

“Iffin ah didn’t put what been on the floor in my mouth, ah would’ve died long ago” Yondu replied bluntly, yet kindly, as he looked up at the top shelf where the object was resting peacefully. 

Charlie observed for a moment, watching as the younger man walked around with his head held high, never once breaking eye contact with his prize. He grabbed Yondu’s arm with his giant hand and pulled him back slightly, preventing him from jumping and climbing his way up the shelving. 

The room they occupied shared the same design and bare feeling as the rest of the mostly unused rooms on the Mothership. The ship itself was extremely large, and finding a use for each and every room was quite the challenge. A thin coating of dust covered every surface of the room, the only exception being the two chairs Charlie had dragged in thirty minutes prior. 

He lead Yondu toward the lone table that rested near the far wall, and took a seat across from him. He motioned for Yondu to sit “I believe it would be beneficial and educational for the both of us, if we discussed your biting issue.”

Yondu’s brow furrowed as he took the offered seat – he was rather taken aback at the idea that what felt so natural, so _comforting_ could be considered to at all be bad. He stumbled over his words, unable to come up with anything resembling an intelligent, or witty, response “I – it ant no issue.”

“The damage done to several objects on this ship disagree with you, Yondu.” 

Charlie-27 produced his holo pad, held it up for Yondu to see, and tapped the holographic screen with his finger “I’ve been doing some research into your species, and while there isn’t much by way of information regarding your biology, I’ve discovered that your species possesses a keen sense of smell. Thus leads to my question as to why the biting? Especially since I know you can smell the difference between food and a non edible.”

Yondu shrugged.

“If you do not wish to answer, that’s fine. I am a patient man” Charlie brought his holo pad back down and began scrolling through his large collection of books. As an avid reader, Charlie-27 possessed a monstrous collection, and although he had barely made a dent in it, he still insisted on buying books to the point where even Mainframe had kindly suggested that he stop and let himself catch up.

As minutes passed, Charlie looked up from his reading to discover Yondu, who’s gaze had re focused on the squishy object, slowly, quietly, but surely, making his way back toward the shelving. _’For scientific purposes’_ Charlie told himself, as he brought his pad up a little higher until his eyes were just visible over the top. 

Yondu got into a crouching position, and then sprung up like a cat – his fingers just grazing the shelving. After a few more attempts, he let out an angry huff and scanned the room, looking for any item that could give him the boost he needed, while remaining discreet and quiet enough.

It was fascinating, the amount of effort being put forth for the sake of obtaining one pointless little object, Charlie mused. But he had questions: Why was it so important and why waste the energy trying to obtain it? 

“I wonder if this fixation has anything to do with your species” Charlie suddenly said as he placed his holo pad down.

“Yes...Given the sharpness of your teeth, body structure and abilities, I do genuinely wonder if this obsession with chewing has to do with some sort of latent mental development...” he stood up and walked toward Yondu, pondering out loud all the while “mayhap it is an adolescent thing...yes, one you are only experiencing now due to lack of opportunity on Hala!” 

“Got no idea’s what ya just said” Yondu said, cutting Charlie off. 

Charlie-27 quickly walked over to where Yondu stood, and took his place beside him. With his hands clasped behind his back, he kindly simplified “It’s to do with your genetics. I am suggesting its a Centaurian ‘thing’.”

“Oh.” Yondu stopped in his efforts, and placed a finger on his bottom lip in contemplation. He was silent for a minute before having come to a decision “Well, it got nothin’ ta do with that. It’s all bout’ eatin” 

“I’m sorry?”

“Hard ta figure out what ya can eat r’ not iffin ya don’t try different things...”

“There’s several more logical ways of determining if something is edible or not – all of which do not involve putting random objects in your mouth.”

“Wut about honey?” 

“What about it?”

“The guy who discovered honey, If he an’t put it in his mouth when he saws it, then we’s wouldn’t be eatin it! Sames thing with berries n’ stuff.” Yondu argued back.

“I...” Charlie paused for a moment, lowering his held up finger, then shook his head and lectured “nevertheless there is a massive difference in smell alone, between honey, berries and plastic.” 

“Lots ‘o’ thangs don’t smell good, still eatable....” 

“Edible” Charlie quickly corrected in exasperation “and I know you are well aware that, that thing isn’t edible. So, I don’t understand why it’s so important to you.”

Yondu went quiet for a moment, fiddling with his fingers and focusing on the floor. He stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity before finally replying with a small shrug “I dunno....”

It took a moment for Charlie to realize that being so forceful in his opinions wasn’t quite the best idea. Arguments, disagreements, discussions and debates were all well and good, but to a former slave, the very idea was foreign and almost suicidal. Stakar and Aleta had made it very clear that building up Yondu’s confidence was of the utmost importance and any attempts against said goal was to be met with extreme prejudice. 

Charlie-27 swallowed nervously. 

“Perhaps what we need is a more scientific approach” Charlie-27 suggested gently “a small observational study, nothing too complicated, on what objects you are more likely to attempt to eat, versus those you are likely to ignore. I wish to see if there is a pattern to your biting, or if it is truly random. Sound good?”

“Wuts a...obster-obstervational study?” Yondu asked shyly, struggling with pronunciation. 

“An observational-” Charlie pronounced the word slowly “study, is a study that is usually preformed with a large group where the independent variable – in this case being your biting – is not under control of the researcher – that being myself – due to ethical concerns or logistical constraints.”

Yondu nodded slowly, feigning understanding. 

“I know it all seems rather complicated” Charlie said as if reading his mind “How about this. All I need you to do is gather as many things you can bite as you can carry. Nothing dangerous, nothing from Stakar’s quarters, nothing valuable, and bring them back here. Then we will be able to figure out if there is a pattern to your preferences, or if it is truly random.“

\------

“What are you doing, Yondu?” Mainframe asked from her place in Krugarr’s arms.

They watched as Yondu darted toward the table and crouched down. Krugarr slithered toward him, and lowered Mainframe until she was eye level with Yondu – almost sharing the space under the table with him.

“Science.” 

“Science hunh? That sounds fun” Mainframe said kindly “what kind of science are you doing?” 

With one hand on top of the table and his head still under it, Yondu frowned as he looked in every direction “obstervational study. Charlie wants me to find things to bite but I ant find much biteable things yet.” he sat up with a disappointed sigh “an’t find nothin’ here neither.”

Mainframe and Krugarr shared a look “Maybe your looking in the wrong place” Mainframe suggested kindly “if you’d like, Krugarr and I can help you look?”

Yondu strummed his fingers on the floor in thought. While Charlie-27 did say to gather things, he never said he had to do it alone, or rather – never forbade the help of others. With Krugarr and Mainframe’s help, it _would_ go a lot faster, however Charlie did say _’gather as many things as_ **you** _can carry’_ , not _‘gather as many things as_ **others** _can carry.’_

“You can help.....but can’t carry nothin" though he tried his best to sound insistent, Yondu’s efforts fell rather short, leaving both Krugarr and Mainframe barely able to hold back from cooing. 

“Alright – no carrying” she winked “we promise” Krugarr nodded his head in agreement and gave a thumbs up. 

Together they searched the ship. Every nook and cranny, room and shelf, was thoroughly searched. In their quest, many items thought long gone had been discovered, causing Mainframe to exclaim more than once “so _that’s_ where that went!” 

When they were done, Yondu stood on slightly shaky legs, his head tilted painfully to one side as the massive pile blocked his view. So many things, almost too much to handle, yet he refused to budge and accept help. 

“Are you absolutely _sure_ you don’t want Krugarr’s help?” 

“Yeah, ahm good! Ah g-got this” Yondu forced out, sounding slightly unsure. 

They watched as he turned on his heel and walked away, nearly smacking into walls and stumbling all the while. 

\--- 

Charlie looked up from his reading just in time to dodge the pile of things as Yondu dumped them onto the floor. The pile of things varied wildly. Some things were small, some large. Others were soft, and some were nearly rock solid. There was no pattern to the collection of things, the only thing they shared between them being that Yondu chose them. 

Charlie and Yondu took a seat on opposite sides, crossed legged on the floor. 

“Alright” Charlie readied his holo pad, his fingers hovering over the keyboard and ready to type “When ever you are ready.” 

Yondu looked down at the pile and nudged things carelessly this way and that, making the small pile shrink as if looking for something. Charlie observed as most of the very hard things were ignored in leu of softer – more pliant things. 

Charlie leaned forward as Yondu lifted up a softer item, only to mutter ‘no’ and toss it over his shoulder and onto the floor behind him. After a few minutes of this, Charlie-27’s enthusiasm waned, only to be replaced with impatience. 

“You can start” he repeated once more, mouth set into a thin line. 

“It was biteable, but it an’t now.” 

Charlie’s eye twitched “what changed in the time it took to transport it from there to here?” 

With a shrug, Yondu tossed another item over his shoulder and onto the floor behind him “dunno, it just an’t biteable no more.” 

“You..........don’t know?” Charlie-27 sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose “that makes no sense – is entirely illogical – not to mention nonsensical. I beg of you, give me something to work with.” 

It was like being stuck with a cat. An oversized, 5’ 9 cat, with razor sharp teeth, a slight lisp, and an almost otherworldly talent for pissing others off without meaning to. He dug his fingers into his pants and looked heavenword – doing deep breathing to calm himself. 

As he did this, Yondu took a soft item from the pile and begun chewing. He was at this for almost a minute until Charlie had taken notice he then furiously typed on his holo pad, making sure not to miss a single detail. 

“Do I even wanna know?” Stakar said bluntly from his place by the door. After an interesting talk with Krugarr and Mainframe, which basically consisted of cries of 'science', 'Charlie-27', 'Yondu' and 'cute', Stakar had gone on a quick search for the men in question, and found a trail of junk that lead all the way to the room the two occupied. 

A stuffed animal, or what was left of it, limply hung from Yondu’s mouth. As if on cue, the item ripped – it’s head and arm separating from it’s body and onto the floor below. 

“Science!” Charlie exclaimed. 

“Science” Stakar repeated bluntly.

“Yes, Stakar, SCIENCE!”

“And what have you discovered?” - Stakar said, as he walked over toward them and stood with his arms crossed. 

"I have discovered...” he set the pad down, shook his head and crossed his arms “absolutely nothing. There is zero rational explanation for Yondu’s behavior. No patterns, no preferences, zero logic...I am at a loss, Stakar.” 

Charlie stood and begun to pace “I tell him to collect things he wants to bite, he does so, comes back and then proceeds to ignore everything aside from one solitary thing! I do not understand, Stakar, what is the difference between this - “ he pointed to the ruined plush “and those?” and then pointed to the large pile of discarded things that lay behind Yondu. 

“Dunno what you expected” Stakar’s brutal honesty cut through any lasting hope like a knife though the ribs “people an’t that simple.” 

“I can explain his behaviour! I know I can!” 

Stakar turned his attention toward Yondu, watching him out of the corner of his eye. Yondu gnawed on the thing’s paw, a slow chewing motion that was borderline sucking. Eating perhaps? ah. 

Stakar kneeled, and took hold of Yondu’s chin, forcing him to look up while he chewed “The difference between that and those, is how likely eatin’ it is gonna kill em’.” he turned to look at Charlie “he’s hungry, dumb-ass. Or scavenging or whatever the crap it’s called. When yer hungry you get desperate....no time to get picky, get what I'm sayin?” 

“And the shit in that mess over there, is cus ya gave him an order, right? The fuck did I tell ya last week?” Stakar's tone wasn't kind nor accusing. 

Charlie seemed to deflate. He scratched the back of his head and muttered “be more specific.”

“And?” 

“And mind your wording, because - “ 

“Because he’ll misinterpret and take shit literally, yeah.” Stakar finished for him “So, what did ya say ta him? Repeat it nice n’ slow.” 

Charlie thought long and hard for a moment, talking slow, and mulling over each word “All I need you to do is _gather as many things you can bite as you can carry._ Nothing dangerous, nothing from Stakar’s quarters, nothing valuable, _and bring them back here._ Then we will be able to figure out if there is a pattern to your preferences, or if it is truly random......curses.” 

Stakar laughed “Ya know what this reminds me of? That Galaxy-110 trilogy. Cept instead of a book, your tryin’ ta psychoanalyze Yondu. Look, man, I know this whole chewin’ thing is pissin ya off – we all can see it – but maybe it might be best to just leave it.” 

“It’s unsanitary” was Charlie’s only reply. 

“That’s true. Then maybe instead of trying to stop his chewing, ya work on leadin’ him towards shit that’s clean? Baby steps.” Stakar suggested. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Galaxy-110 is a space trilogy that is lord of the rings esq, it's complicated and Charlie absolutely adores it. For years Charlie has been attempting to get the other members to join his one man book club, but alas all efforts fall short cus no one gives a shit lol.
> 
> If you re watch the 2nd GOTG movie and pay really close attention to Yondu, you'll be able to hear a very slight lisp every time he talks. :0


	6. Buttons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Shows up almost 5 months late with Starbucks*
> 
> This was the one chap I wanted to include in FSTR SO BADLY, but couldn't due to all the other plot bits going on and I felt it kinda would just be a bit too much. You'll notice, however, her hobby is referenced in FSTR as lil easter eggs - such as, for example, in chapter 11 and 33 of FSTR or anytime a plush is referenced.

Each member of the crew had their own place on the ship they unofficially claimed as their own. A place to meditate, train, build, relax, or – in Aleta’s case –create. Many see-through containers sat against the walls, stacked on top of each other and neatly packed to near bursting with thread, buttons, accessories, stuffing, and fabric of all kinds.

A soft and cheerful carpet covered the metal grating, and handmade plush aliens and pillows were scattered about, adding to the feeling of comfyness and warmth throughout the room. Yondu and Aleta sat opposite each other cross legged on the floor, each sitting atop very generously stuffed pillows that resembled a frog and bear respectively.

“Oooooooh I’m so excited” Aleta gushed, as she got up, fetched one of the containers and placed it down between them “we’re gonna be making stuffed animals. Super easy shit, and yer gonna love it.”

Yondu ran his hand over the carpets material. Softer than fur, with an almost smooth like feel, it was pleasant enough that he imagined one could easily fall asleep on it’s surface if allowed. Aleta popped the top off of the container and placed it gently down beside it.

The amount of material was overwhelming. Too much choice, but not a single clue as to what to do with it or how to do it. Yondu bunched his hand’s into the carpets surface and asked in a cautious tone “what do ya want me ta make?”

Her overly happy attitude and excitement was very suspicious, Yondu thought to himself. Perhaps it was a trick? Or maybe a test? A test for what, he did not know, but nevertheless he readied himself for whatever she planned to throw his way.

“I want” she clapped a hand onto her thigh and grinned, the volume nearly causing Yondu to reel back in shock. Enthusiasm rolled off of her in waves. It was clear that she was very much in her element and couldn’t be happier. “you ta make what ever ya feel like! I got, like, hundreds of patterns and so much shit that yer bound ta find something that gives ya an idea.”

“What ever ah feels like...” he murmured while standing up.

“It could be a texture, or a color” she suggested, gesturing to the other containers.

Yondu walked around the room deep in thought, his eyes taking in the various colors and textures. Aleta waited patiently, a smile tugging at her lips, as Yondu bent down and gently; slowly, sorted through the contents.

If this was a test, it was a rather odd one.

“...s’ it ok if ah make someone?” After a few minutes of going through the fabric, he turned his head to address Aleta.

“Got someone in mind?”

He lifted the glittery fabric from the container and laid it flat in his hands. The pastels and sequins shone brilliantly in the light of the room, reminding him of Reiligha – a light snuffed out too soon; a kindness too bright for the heartless Kree.

“Subject 4” Yondu replied, his voice soft as he remembered.

She looked thoughtful before replying “of course. Ya know, Sita -” Aleta swallowed in upset before hiding her sadness with a smile “she made people into animals. A mommy and daddy bear, a Terra kitty, a Jhon falcon...You could maybe try that?”

He pondered out loud “ah bird...like one o’ em colourful ones with tha shiny tails.....”

“You mean a bariit? Subject 4 must’ve been very beautiful.” she carefully pried, not wanting to push too quickly and risk him closing himself off.

Though not as common as a house cat, the bariit was a rather usual sight on planets of all kinds, though it’s beauty was nothing less than extraordinary. It’s body was a light pink, and it’s tail and wings a light pastel gradient of blues, purples and white that resembled that of a cloud more than the feathers it was made of. In many cultures, the Bariit is considered a protected species, almost spiritual in nature and looks not unlike the Terran Phoenix.

“She was...they all were. But she wus different...” as the first and last person to share emotions with Yondu so intimately, Reiligha’s memory stood as a bright spot among the blight that were the Kree; a shining new experience, despite it being so intensely miserable.

“That’d be a fun project, ah’ think” Aleta stood up and moved to stand beside Yondu “makin’ each of yer friends.” She sorted through the various fabrics with a grin, as Yondu watched with the glittery fabric still gently clenched in his hands “different animals, different everythin’. Yer gonna have a lot of fun! I can’t wait ta see what cha make.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in “But yer gonna need more fabric than that, though.”

\-----

It wasn’t like gripping a sword, or pulling back the string on a bow – sewing needles were a challenge far beyond his abilities. Flexing his fingers with a frown, Yondu looked down at his right hand and turned it over, frowning at the impressive collection of scars littering every inch.

Years of abuse and battle had taken it’s toll, though the extent of which he had never fully realized until now. Yondu examined his other hand and found it to be much in the same state as his right. It was no wonder the needle refused to be steady, or why it kept slipping from his grasp.

He placed his hands back into his lap, biting back a frustrated sigh, and looked down at the pathetic thing he’d managed so far.

It’s eyes were crooked, and one was barely hanging on, dangling by a single red thread. It’s body was half shaped and it’s wings terribly misshapen, a far cry from the magnificent picture he had in his head.

The lesson she gave was incredibly thorough and easy to understand. But despite that, Yondu still found it as a whole to be rather challenging. Sewing was also a painfully monotonous task and Yondu, despite his best efforts, was growing terribly bored. Inwardly he berated himself, feeling ungrateful for daring to turn his nose up at something that made Aleta so happy.

Very carefully, and still faking sewing motions with his right hand, Yondu looked up. Aleta’s ability far surpassed his - her needle danced across the fabric as it’s shape rapidly came together. Yondu debated asking for help, but seeing her so content and absorbed...he couldn’t do that.

His keen eyes could make out a frog like shape. Blue, with two red eyes and red spiky hair. Half a smile was formed on it’s face, Not even the smallest detail was forgotten. For a few minutes more, he watched her sew, before the feeling of boredom had simply proved to be too much. His gaze swept through the room, eager to find something to do.

The first item his gaze had landed on was a cookie tin. Carefully, and quietly as possible, he snuck over to it and gripped the side of the lid – ready to take it off. What delicious flavors of cookies were they, he wondered?

Sewing supplies flavored, apparently. Yondu picked the lid back up and pronounced what was written in a near whisper, sounding everything out just like Stakar had taught him “bb-bu-butter c-coo-cookies. Butter cookies.”

Learning to read was quite hard, but it instilled a sense of accomplishment and pride within himself, and although he wasn’t very good at it yet, Yondu knew that he hadn’t misread what was written on the tin. After all, he’d been studying diligently and he wasn’t a fool. There were no butter cookies inside the tin – just sewing supplies and lies.

Brows furrowed, he mulled over what was before him. Perhaps, or rather most likely, he finally decided, Aleta chose this ruse as a clever trap of sorts. It’s defensive capabilities were rather poor, but as a test it was brilliant!

The one who thrust his hand in would get a nasty poke thus causing him to cry out and announce that he, in fact, had not been sewing like Aleta had asked. Yondu beamed with pride for not falling for the trap.

He placed the top back onto the tin and got back up, resuming his search. After walking around a bit more, his gaze fell upon a curious sight.

A plush that resembled a bear. It’s body was burnt and looked like it was barely held together, but it was still recognizable. One of it’s eyes was dangling by a thread, and it’s dangly limbs were close to the same state too. There was no dust on it, despite it giving off the impression that it rarely, if ever, moved from it’s spot on the shelf, which suggested that it was very well cared for.

He carefully picked it up the bear and turned it around in his hand to view it from all angles. It seemed so out of place in the presence of the cheerful aura that the room exuded and the perfectly crafted stuffed animals that occupied it.

Why keep it, he wondered? It was hardly in a state to be played with, and it seemed like such a miserable thing. It needed to be fixed as well, though maybe Aleta forgot, he wondered out loud.

“Hmm?” she replied, still too absorbed in her work to notice.

“This” He repeated, moving a little closer and shaking it slightly with both hands “S’ all broken. Why an’t ya fixed it yet?”

“Stop!” Aleta snapped, throwing her needle and project down roughly “put her down right now!”

Without a second thought, Yondu dropped the plush. Aleta and he could do nothing but watch in horror as it’s delicate body descended before finally hitting the floor and breaking apart. It’s right eye rolled across the carpet before stopping close to Aleta’s person and it’s left leg ripped even further, now dangling by a thread.

Yondu immediately bowed in learned reflex, his forehead touching the carpet. Terror swept through his veins, as memories of old punishments toward his person and others, and every possible consequence, ran though his mind. What would she do to him, he wondered? Beat him within an inch of his life? Throw him out the airlock? Cut off one, or more, of his appendages?

The possibility’s were endless.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yondu watched with bated breath as she walked toward the fallen plush. She picked it up with such gentleness and hugged it close, seemingly forgetting – or rather unconcerned – of Yondu’s presence.

Yet still he did not dare move.

\---

With the plush still held close, Aleta held the pink button in her left hand delicately as if it might shatter if gripped too hard, and stared at it – almost memorized.

Memories of that awful day are so vivid that even now, as she closes her eyes, she can still smell the smoke and burnt flesh of her children. The guttural scream that rose from her throat at the sight of the inferno, and how she tried so desperately to try and tear herself free of Stakar’s grasp as he held onto her with an almost vice like grip and refused to free her, no matter how hard she hit or loudly she pleaded with him to let go.

That day Aleta and Stakar’s world collapsed.

She remembers finally being able to enter the house and seeing everything turned to ash. Looking around helplessly, as Stakar waited by the door unable to even bear looking inside, she searched desperately among the wreckage for something – anything. Partially buried under wooden beams, she found it: a badly singed mommy bear made by a child’s hand. it’s pink eyes unblinking and unseeing as the one who created it.

Stakar was not the only one unable to move on, she thinks. Building toys for children who will never want or need them ever again...how many has she made, she wonders? Hundreds, maybe thousands, and yet it is one. She knows, deep down, that fixing that bear would mean facing an awful truth she’d never fully been able to accept, and taking a step she doesn’t ever know she’ll be able to take.

""It’s so stupid” Aleta suddenly said. A laugh that sounded more like a sob escaped her, and she valiantly tried to stop the tears that kept coming “Keeping something like this, it’s pathetic!”

Yondu slowly lifted his head and turned to look at her. Her shoulders shook with the force of her silent sobs.

“W-why’s it pathetic?” he carefully prodded.

While working as a bodyguard for the more underground affluent members of society, he had become accustomed to seeing people’s emotions turn on a dime; happy one minute, and absolutely devastated the next. While most of these cases were due to said persons being spoiled beyond belief, or just generally mentally unstable, Yondu suspected – for the first time in his life – that his masters tears were not due to a simple inconvenience, but real – emotional – pain.

As such, he had no idea how to proceed. What could he possibly say or do to make Aleta feel better?

“Because it hurts! It fucking hurts to look at, an-and I hate it so damn much, but-” she sniffed and hung her head low, her voice dropping to a near whisper so quiet that Yondu could barely hear it “I can’t throw her away.”

Fear forced down, Yondu rose from his bowing position and turned around to get a good glimpse of the room and it’s contents, and mentally went over Aleta’s earlier instruction.

He sorted through the containers as neatly as possible and picked out a mish mash of bright minky; the fabric chosen for it’s soft texture and feel on the skin. Light green, pink and red thread– bright, ‘fun’ and simple. When he looked at Aleta and her precious thing, he was overcome with positive emotions, and felt these colors conveyed that.

Lastly, random buttons of all colors and sizes were placed into the growing pile, along with some ribbon. Walking toward her he had a sudden, selfish thought _’maybe she won’t punish me too bad iffin ah fix er.’_

Yondu placed it all down in a pile before her and gently said., a forced smile upon his face “i-iffin ya can’t throw her away, why not fix her?” Yondu pointed to the fabric “could put s-summa this on er’, n- n’ use this -” he picked up a dark blue medium sized button, hands shaking ever so slightly “for her eye, n’ sew it all on with tha thread.”

He gripped the sewing needle as best he could, and attempted to thread it, hands shaking from fear and muscle damage “j-jus’ gotta getter through -”

Aleta gently wrapped her right hand around Yondu’s to steady it, and helped guide the thread through the needles eye. She bit her lip and looked away as he sewed the blue button onto it’s face. Once he stopped, she looked back and nearly laughed at the finished result.

The blue button, instead of sitting equally opposite to it’s pink brother, laid lopsided and the sewing job was rather poor despite the clear effort that had been put into it. Yondu, now feeling a little better and more confident after seeing her smile, then picked up two squares of Minky, one pink, the other light green, and said “ah’ wus thinkin’ tha pink might be nice, but the greens good too. Which one do you want?”

With a smile still on her face, Aleta pointed to the green.

“Fer the leg? thas’ a good choice.” before he could start cutting, however, Aleta shook her head gently “For the face. The leg should be pink.”

Yondu nodded. He gathered up the material then paused, having realized one very important thing “awww shit...uh, how do ah do that again? Sewin’ the leg n’ the face. I fergot...”

She laughed once more “Hand em over, I’ll show ya.” he handed over the needle and fabric, the ribbon and other various things he collected then moved to sit beside her and watched carefully as she explained.

\----

Slowly but surely, together they worked – restoring life to the once sad and lifeless mommy bear. It’s limbs were now light green and it’s face half pink. On each ear sat bows in many colors and it’s tail became a giant orange pom pom. Visually, it was a complete mess. But it was their mess.

“She looks” Yondu struggled to find the words “interestin.’”

“An’t nothin’ wrong with that” She replied.

“That’s the great thing about creating, Yondu, there’s no right or wrong way to do it.” Aleta lifted the bear up and grinned as she admired it in the light "Like I used to tell Sita - When it comes to creatin', any idea is a good idea and yer best is all that matters."

Yondu yelped in surprise as she put her arm over his shoulders and pulled him close, placing the plush in the middle to show him "she looks pretty amazing, and less lonely I think. Been sitting up there for a pretty damn long time -" she gave a big huff "what I mean to say is" and pulled Yondu in for a hug, sandwiching the plush between them.

“Thank you.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, sorry for being gone for so long! I will be posting a new story called: Murderball. It's a super fun game that stars our favorite crew competing in a super fun game on our favorite beach planet for $$$$$.
> 
> Bariit is pronounced: Bar- reet. Roll the 'R' and extend the 'E' slightly.
> 
> I think we've all encountered the butter cookie sewing supplies tin. Also, for Yondu, he's able to grip most things, but struggles with doing very delicate things. This is rather common with injuries of his sort.
> 
> As always, the wonderful art is by the insanely gifted: Jivvin@tumblr.com


End file.
